Heat Extinguished
by Aileanor
Summary: After Always, alternate ending. What if Kate didn't make it off the rooftop? Angst heavy, for those who like angry/dark Castle.
1. Chapter 1

Richard Castle was tired. Achingly tired. And drained, and more than a little bit heartbroken. He was trying not to think about it, but it was there, at the edges of his mind, trying to make itself known.

"_For four years I've been waiting for you to open your eyes and see that I'm right here!"_

"_I'm more than a partner"_

"_How could you do this to me?"_

"_You're right, there's really nothing I can say is there?"_

It's over, he told himself. She didn't stop you, and she didn't _stop_, and you cannot do this anymore. He picked up the remote for the smart board, and brought up her case. One final sweep – he couldn't help himself. Every time he brought up the images he looked them over, just in case this time he noticed something, in case _this time_ something made sense. His heart wrenched again at the site of all the danger she was facing, all the people who had died for this _fucking_ case. Steeling himself, Castle deleted the lot. Strange that he didn't feel any different, didn't feel a burden being lifted, his heart being lightened, or any other artistic metaphor he could come up with. He just felt tired.

"_I'm done." _

A knock at the door interrupted Castle's reverie. He grimaced. He was so not in the mood for visitors now. For one brief moment he considered ignoring it, but as usual his curiosity got the better of him. Slapping on the most pleasant expression he could muster, he swung the door open.

"What do you want, Ryan?"

Ryan grimaced. "Castle". Ryan's tone told him everything that he needed to know.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a bright, sunny day for Captain Montgomery's funeral. It had made it that much easier for Castle to spot the sniper, although not easy enough to stop her getting hurt. For Beckett's funeral, almost a year to the day later, it rained. Hard. Castle stood in the background, not wanting to be involved or acknowledged. From his spot at the back of the assembled crowds, he watched as Esposito paid tribute to Kate the detective, and Jim Beckett spoke movingly about Kate the daughter. There were a lot of people present – it seemed like the entire precinct had turned out to mourn one of their own – and here and there Castle recognised families of those to whom Beckett had brought justice. He set his jaw, determined to endure this and then probably go and drown himself in whisky somewhere.

"Hey man". Ryan had appeared at his side. "Surviving?" Castle grunted, sure that if he opened his mouth to speak, more would come out than he intended.

Suddenly, Castle noticed that the service was finished, people were moving, milling around. Before he could avoid it, Lanie was on him.

"I'm so sorry Castle." She hugged him fiercely. "You need anything, anything at all, you call me, ok?" Her lip trembling, Lanie reached for Esposito's hand. Espo gripped Castle's shoulder.

"Dude." He looked lost for a minute, then nodded tightly. Pulling Lanie away, he swept past his former partner without a backwards glance.

Castle could feel the emotion building up inside him, knew he had to get out of there before he said something he shouldn't. He stalked off to the car park, ignoring everyone who tried to stop him, viciously yanked open the car door, and drove off in a crunch of gravel.

Martha and Alexis stood watching from the cemetery , until Ryan came up to them. "Hi Mrs R. Do you need a ride home?"

Ryan pulled up outside the Castle's building. "Do you think Castle's…" Martha shook her head.

"Oh darling, I'm sure that wherever Richard is, he is not here. He has barely been here at all since, well…"

"He might be at the bar." Alexis piped up. "When he has come home he's been pretty drunk."

"Thanks guys. Are you ok here?"

"Of course darling, you go and find Richard, he needs a friend right now" Martha patted Ryan's arm maternally, then she and Alexis climbed out of the car.

"Ok," Ryan sighed to himself. "The Old Haunt it is."

"Hey Chris," Ryan tossed the bartender a smile. "He down there?" The bartender nodded. "Stormed down there about an hour ago. Just stopped to grab a bottle off the shelf. It's lucky he's rich, man, he's drinking all the profits."

"Detective Ryan?" Ryan turned in surprise. One of the waitresses was stood behind him, eyes full of worry. "We're all really worried about Mr Castle." Ryan smiled kindly at her. "I know, me too."

Squaring his shoulders he pulled the secret lever that opened the door to Castle's office at the bar. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see several whisky bottle lying around, along with some blankets on the leather sofa that Castle had had installed.

"What the hell do you want, Ryan?" The voice came from the crumpled figure at the desk. Rick was already more than halfway to drunk, and Ryan didn't want a fight, so he held up his hands in surrender.

"Just checking you're ok. Everyone's really worried about you."

Castle snorted. "Am I ok? Well, let's see. I told Beckett I loved her, I begged her to not to go after Maddox, and she did it anyway. And now she's dead. So no, I'm not ok, I'm fucking FURIOUS." Castle jerked upright. Unconciously echoing Beckett's words from the night before she died, he kept yelling. "How the hell could she do that to me?"

Castle was electrified now, filled the fury that he'd tried to keep at bay. "Did her life mean so little to her that she would throw it away like that? Did I mean so little to her? I begged her, you know, _begged her_ not to do it, but she cared so little for me, so little for the fact for that I FUCKING LOVED HER, that she FUCKING DIED." Ryan stared in horror as Castle picked up his glass and flung it furiously against the wall, before the anger visibly drained out of him and he collapsed back in to the chair. He looked at Ryan, face crumpled, tears filling his eyes, and whispered "what am I supposed to do now?"


	3. Chapter 3

**There were supposed to be some page breaks in that last chapter, I apologise, it doesn't make as much sense without them. If anyone knows how to do them, please let me know! **

_3 Weeks Later…_

Sunlight blazed through the window, hitting Castle square in the face.

"What the hell?"

Martha was standing in the doorway of his bedroom, her face a mixture of pity and anger. Castle groaned.

"Mother, whatever you're about to say, I don't want to hear it." He rolled over, taking the blankets with him, but a firm hand grabbed them and pulled them back.

"Well that's tough, because I'm saying it. Look at yourself." Castle was lying on the bed, fully dressed, an empty bottle of scotch next to the pillow. Several more bottles lay littered around the room, along with discarded clothes and reams of paper full of scribbles and crossed out writing. "Look at yourself, Richard. Is this any way to live? You're drunk all the time, we never know where are, you've barely eaten… " Martha trailed off, knowing that the next thing she was going to say was going to break the final piece of Richard's heart. "Do you know where Alexis is right now?"

Castle squinted up at her. "Huh?"

"She's in L.A., with Meredith. She's been there for a week." Castle gaped at her now, mind racing. That couldn't be true, he's just seen Alexis… When was it? Yesterday, surely?

Martha shook her head gently. "She left, Richard. She couldn't bear to see you like this. _I _can't bear to see you like this."

Castle felt his heart, already leaden, drop even further. "Everybody leaves," he mumbled. Tears stung his eyes as Martha laid her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not going anywhere, darling. But this ends now. You need to pull yourself together. Beckett is gone, but you aren't. You're alive, but you're not living. And you're missing out. Alexis is leaving for college in a month. Are you really going to let yourself miss out on that precious time?"

Castle shook his head, unable to summon words. Martha seemed to understand; she gave his shoulder a little squeeze and stood up from the bed. "Go back to sleep, kiddo."

She left the room, and Castle was already drifting back off to sleep.

The next time Castle awoke, it was mid-afternoon. At some point Martha had come in and left water and asprin by his bed, which he now grabbed gratefully.

Castle lay still for a few more minutes, to allow the asprin time to work, then hauled himself out of bed and staggered to the bathroom. Facing himself full on in the mirror, he was shocked at what he saw. His face was simultaneously gaunt and bloated, his eyes were bloodshot, he had a week's worth of stubble. He looked grey.

But worse than that was the self-loathing Castle saw in his eyes. _You've really done it this time, Rick, _he said to himself. _Rock bottom is right here. _Memories of the last month began to assault him, snippets of memory really. A lot of drink, a lot of anger. He remembered the heavy ball of anger that sat in his chest, overshadowing everything else, growing bigger and bigger, until it had exploded.

He'd started off last night at the Old Haunt, as always. Some jackass had been hassling one of the waitresses, and although the bar staff had it under control, Rick had stormed up out of the basement and pummelled the guy. The shocked faces all around him, staff and patrons alike, had sent him storming out of the bar into the night. He'd walked around until he felt himself sobering up, started to feel everything he'd been trying to numb, so he ducked in to the first bar he'd seen and ordered drink after drink. At some point he'd got chatted up by a pretty girl. He would normally have blown her off, except she had long brown hair and wide green eyes, and was kind enough to not point it out when he called out Kate's name. Afterwards, Castle had never been so ashamed of himself.

He vaguely remembered staggering his way back to Central Park, where he'd been picked up by some cops. They'd taken him to the 12th, where the duty cops shook their heads, looked at him with sympathetic eyes, and called Ryan. Ryan had been like a shadow recently, checking up on him, helping him home after another night in an anonymous bar. Getting him out of lock-up.

Castle turned on the shower, making the water as hot as he could bear. He wanted to wash away the memories, burn them away. As the water flowed over him, however, he finally couldn't take it anymore. He broke down, crying the tears that had been pushed back, locked way, finally allowing himself to grieve.

Showered, shaved and sitting at the kitchen bench, Castle curled his fingers around a streaming mug of coffee. The pile of bacon sandwiches he'd demolished had gone a long way to curing his hangover, but there was nothing like the fragrant scent of coffee to clear his head.

"Mother…" Martha turned, startled. Castle had been sitting in introspective silence for some time."

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry."

"Oh darling!" Martha flew to his side. "It's ok. Everyone understands. It's just because everyone hates to see you hurting so much. That's why Alexis really left. It hurt her too much to see how sad you were. That's why Detective Ryan has been looking out for you. Everyone loves you, Richard."

Castle nodded thoughtfully. "You're right mother, thank you." He dropped a kiss on her cheek, got up and headed towards the front door.

"Where are you going?"

Castle grimaced. "I have some amends to make."

**I hope everyone's enjoying this, if anyone's got any thoughts and/or constructive criticism I'd love to hear it. **


	4. Chapter 4

_5 Months Later…_

He always enjoyed the unlimited potential of a blank document, or piece of paper. For those brief moments he could write anything, he could rival Peyps, Dickens, Twain. He could write the next Great American Novel. It was exhilarating, and terrifying.

It was his little ritual, however full of ideas he was, to spend a full minute staring at the blank page. He did it now, even though the words were straining, almost bursting to come out. For 5 months he'd avoided his laptop, unable to even contemplate Nikki without Beckett. But the combined efforts of Alexis, Martha, Lanie and Gina had persuaded him that a final book in the series would be a tribute to Beckett, not a betrayal, and now he couldn't keep the words inside anymore. They, the nebulous, anonymous 'they', had said that his books were love letters to his muse – well this time he wasn't denying it. He only hoped he could convey everything she had been to him, everything he had never said.

He was slow at first, his fingers unused to typing. But soon, the words were pouring forth, and Richard Castle was laying his heart bare on the page.

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"Yo Castle, 'sup man?" Esposito clapped Castle on the back as he slid in to the booth next to him. Ryan slipped in opposite, already taking a pull on a cold beer.

The boys had reached an uneasy truce a few months after Beckett died, following an intervention from Lanie and Jenny, both sick of their men moping around. They had reached a tacit agreement not to discuss the events of that day, and returned to murder solving.

Castle was writing furiously, he barely looked up to acknowledge Esposito. Since the day he'd reopened his computer he'd barely stopped writing, pausing only for a change of scenery occasionally. He carried his laptop everywhere.

Ryan and Esposito had come across him at the Old Haunt, back in his favourite booth. Even though Beckett wasn't there and Castle didn't come to the precinct any more, they still visited the Haunt often. Ryan visited especially often; he still had to rescue Castle occasionally, when his grief got the better of him. Castle had asked him once why he continued to step in. Ryan's eyes had clouded over, with sadness, yes, but also wariness. Castle had wondered about it at the time.

"_Because. Because I know that this won't last forever," Ryan had said. Castle shook his head. _

"_I can't imagine ever feeling this less." _

_Ryan had gripped his arm then, looking him straight in the eyes. "I promise, Castle. This won't last forever. I-" _

"_Detective Ryan." They were interrupted by a shout from a uniform. Ryan let out a frustrated huff, gripped Castle tighter for a moment and then left. _

With a flourish, Castle finished the sentence he was writing, and turned his attention to his friends.

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"Richard Castle, what the hell is this?"

Castle sighed. "Well hello Gina, lovely to see you too." Castle's ex-wife and still-current publisher pushed her way into the loft and slapped a pile of papers down on the nearest available surface.

"Don't you try and charm your way out of this one," Gina wagged an angry finger at Castle. "I can't believe you're doing this again! First you kill of Derrick Storm, and now Nikki Heat's getting it too? Are you determined to ruin your career?"

Castle took a deep breath, silently counting to 10. He had known the ending of his latest book would cause controversy, but he simply hadn't been able to write anything else. However much he dissembled, Nikki _was _Beckett, and he hadn't been able to write the happy ending for Nikki and Rook that had been denied to him and Beckett.

"Gina, now is not the time…" Castle was having a bad day, one of the worst. It was six months to the day that Beckett had died, and that fact combined with finishing the book had thrown him in a dark black mood. The urge to drown himself in scotch was strong, he just wanted to lock the doors and loose himself in memories. He had worked so hard in the last few months to be strong; for Alexis, for his mother, for Ryan and Esposito. But the book had taken everything that he had packed away and pushed down, all the feelings and memories, and abandoned hopes and dreams, and brought them out in to the light. While he was caught up in the maelstrom of writing he had been able to avoid thinking about them, taking only what he needed for the story and pushing the rest aside, but now he couldn't avoid it any more. And with Alexis at college and his mother out of town, Castle just wanted to drink until he forgot. Until he could stop the dreams. The last thing he wanted to do was dream about her; good dream or bad, either way it was more than he could bear.

Gina hadn't paid him any heed, and was subjecting him to a tirade. Castle could feel the tight ball of anger in his chest expanding rapidly, and he pinched the bridge of his nose to try and contain himself.

"… it's not going to bring her back you know. She's dead, Rick, get over it." Gina stopped, horrified by what she had just said. The look on Castle's face just confirmed that she had crossed the line, and even before he spoke she was gathering her things.

Castle clenched his fists. "Get. Out. Now," he hissed. Gina scurried past him and through the still- open door. Castle grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut with all his strength, the resulting bang reverberating round the loft. He kicked it too, for good measure, and then headed to his office with one aim – to get blind drunk. He ignored the manuscript, which had fallen open at the dedication page:

_For Kate, always_.


	5. Chapter 5

_Heat Extinguished is the final outing for Detective Nikki Heat, the character infamously based on real-life NYPD Detective Kate Beckett, who died earlier this year. The muse of Richard Castle, best-selling novelist, died attempting to apprehend a suspect. Heat Extinguished reaches levels of emotional depth not often seen in Mr Castle's books, and is a heart-wrenching read. _

Castle snorted derisively and tossed aside the paper. The reviews for Heat Extinguished had been overwhelmingly positive, and his sales had sky-rocketed when everyone had heard the 'tragic tale' behind the book. But Castle didn't care. He'd written the book for Beckett, he didn't give a damn if he sold a million of them, or none.

He'd decided that any profits from the book would go to the Johanna Beckett Foundation. Lanie had been trying to persuade him to hold a benefit, but Castle couldn't bear the thought – everyone looking at him with sympathy, treating him gently, like he was a _fucking widower_. The book profits were a good compromise.

Now that the rush and adrenaline of writing the books was over, Castle didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't write, he had no muse, no inspiration. Alexis was at college, Martha was absorbed in her school and her new boyfriend. In the past, a trip to Vegas would have done the trick, but Castle didn't want to be that person any more. He'd been shown a better way to live, and he didn't want to lose it, but he didn't know how to keep hold of it either.

He felt leaden inside, all the abundant enthusiasm he'd had for life was gone. Not for the first time Castle wondered how it was possible that he was still alive. He was quite certain that his heart had stopped beating with Beckett's, that when they had lowered her body in to the ground he had gone with her. He was an empty shell, enduring each day, perma-smile etched on his face for the sake of everyone who loved.

Castle knew he wasn't being fair to Alexis. She deserved so much better. Her life would be so much easier if he wasn't around, making her feel like she had to check up on him every day, making her worry her young, carefree days away.

He needed alcohol. Martha kept a not-so-discreet eye on the amount of alcohol in the house, so if he wanted something he had to go out to get it. Richard grabbed his coat, careful not to let the door slam on the way out. He didn't want his mother to know where he was going, or calling Ryan again. Outside in the glaring sunshine, Castle pounded the pavement, searching for somewhere that sold liquor. Thoughtlessly he stepped off the sidewalk, not noticing the car heading straight for him.

A squeal of brakes and a scream from nearby brought Castle with a jolt back to the present. As he stared at the car that had stopped mere inches from him, Castle felt his heart pounding in his chest, a surge of adrenaline hitting him. He stood stock still, eyes wide, amazed at the exhilaration he was feeling. A blast from the horn of the car shook him out of it, and he slowly made his way back to the sidewalk, and his quest for alcohol, and numbness.

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The next time, he was standing in the kitchen chopping vegetables. Alexis was coming for dinner, and he liked her to have a proper meal, regardless of his state of sobriety or otherwise. He must have shifted position slightly, because all of a sudden the blade of the knife caught the light, sending off a small flare in his peripheral vision. Castle stared, mesmerised. The cold flat steel was almost hypnotising as he held it up, and slowly brought it to his wrist. He felt his heart begin to pound, and the same rush of adrenaline flood through his body as he slowly drew the knife across his wrist. Lightly at first, then increasing the pressure. He felt the pounding of his heart all over his body as he watched the crimson red blood ooze out of the wound.

Castle didn't know how long he'd stood there, watching his blood drip on to the worktop, making no effort to stop it, until his phone suddenly chimed.

_On my way, be there 10 mins. Axx_

Castle shook his head slightly, slowly coming out of his daze. As he reached for some paper towels to erase the evidence of what he'd done, he felt the leaden heaviness settle back in to place in his heart. By the time Alexis arrived there was no sign of what had happened just a short time ago, save for a carefully concealed bandage underneath the cuff of his shirt.

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It was late, or perhaps it was very very early, Castle couldn't tell. It was dark outside, so whatever. He was sitting in his office in the dark. Every so often a light from outside glinted off the barrel of the gun he was casually twirling in his hands. He'd bought the gun after Beckett's shooting. He'd never even got it out of the safe, but there was a certain comfort in knowing that he had it, and could protect his family should it come to it. He'd remember it earlier, when he'd sobered up annoyingly early after his latest drinking binge.

The safety firmly off, Castle gripped the gun, played with it, holding first under his chin then against his temple. Finally he put his mouth around the barrel, closing his eyes as he savoured the rush of adrenaline.

After a few minutes the high had worn off, and Castle had calmed sufficiently to leave the gun on the desk as he went to bed, the taste of metal on his lips.

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A week later found Castle wandering the streets of Washington Heights at 3am. He'd been at the Old Haunt all evening, and when it had got to closing time Castle had left to go to the subway. Instead of his usual route, something had driven his feet towards a different line, and he'd found himself here. He'd already seen several drug deals and been relieved of his wallet and phone by a disappointingly peaceable mugger. Castle roamed aimlessly until he became aware of footsteps following him. He began to move faster; his footsteps in sync with the racing of his heart, but whoever was following him sped up too. All of a sudden he was grabbed from behind, and all of his synapses exploded with fear and exhilaration. Castle had to close his eyes against the flood of feeling. He didn't open them again until he'd been slammed against the nearest wall, and could feel the hot breath of his attacker against his face. But when he did open his eyes he was surprised to be looking into the face of a furious Kevin Ryan.

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**I've been really nervous about this one, so please let me know what you think! **


	6. Chapter 6

"What the hell Castle?" Ryan was holding Castle by the throat, pinning him against the wall. Only half his face was visible in the light cast by a nearby streetlamp, but that half was plainly furious. Castle was a little taken aback – he'd rarely seen Kevin Ryan loose his composure. The thought briefly crossed his mind that Ryan wasn't to be crossed, followed by a flicker of gratitude that the boys cared enough about him to follow him to a darkened alley in the worst area of the city in the middle of the night.

Ryan stared Castle down for a few more seconds before letting go with a flourish. He let out a quick, high pitched whistle, and Castle saw Esposito come round the corner, weapon in hand. He shook his head at Castle before they both grabbed a shoulder and pushed him towards the end of the alley, where Castle could see the cruiser parked.

Castle was shoved none too gently into the car, and the trio drove in stony silence back to the loft. But when they pulled up outside the building, Esposito stopped the car and the two turned around to glare at Castle in the back seat.

"What the hell, man? What are you doing wandering round dodgy neighbourhoods at 3 in the morning?" Esposito was trying very hard to keep a reign on his temper. "And the gun, seriously bro?"

Castle looked up at that. "What do you know about that?"

"Alexis. She found it on your desk – she's terrified. What were you planning to do, put a bullet in your brain?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing."

Ryan snorted at that. "It's not nothing, Castle. Talk us man."

Castle felt a great surge of anger. "You don't know, you don't know what it's like, ok?"

"You think we don't feel it too?" Esposito jammed an angry finger into Castle's face. "You think we don't miss her every day? She was like a sister to us, man. We all loved her."

"I'm just… I can't feel anything." Tears began to brim in Castle's eyes. "I'm dead inside. The only way I can feel is to walk that line between life and death." The tears spilled over, and Ryan leaned over the console to put a reassuring hand on Castle's arm.

"Listen, man. You're got to stop this. You've got a daughter who loves you, your mother, friends. And it's killing us seeing you like this. "

Castle nodded, trying to keep his composure, sure that dignity was now a lost cause. Hearing Ryan and Esposito laying out the facts so baldly made Castle realise how selfishly he was behaving. Had he seriously wanted to die? No, he didn't think so. But that was going to be the end result, he could see that now. How could he risk leaving Alexis without a father?

Esposito's face was softer now. "You've got to let her go, bro. You're not letting yourself move on. She wouldn't want that."

He swallowed, furiously blinking back the tears. The lump in his throat was too big, he was only able to nod to the guys, try and reassure them that he understood, that he wasn't going to deliberately put his life at risk any more, he was going to let himself heal. Maybe even move on.

Ryan and Esposito silently escorted him up to his apartment. They waited, still silently, while he went to the safe, retrieved the pistol and handed it to them. Esposito immediately disarmed the weapon, removing the magazine. As he jerked back the slide the bullet that had been resting in the chamber fell out and dropped to the floor, the noise echoing round the apartment in the quiet of the pre-dawn. They all stared at it for a moment before Esposito scooped it up and pocketed it with the rest of the gun.

The boys turned to leave, but at the last minute Ryan turned back as if to say something. He stood for a moment, hesitating, but then shook his head and left.

Castle stood for a while, resting his head against the cool wood of the front door. He was feeling something like… shame. He could see in startling clarity just how his behaviour was endangering everything – not just his recent adrenaline seeking but his wild grief and borderline alcoholism. He was wrung out, drained and empty, but for the first time since Ryan had knocked on his door and looked at him with that expression that was a combination of sadness, pity and dread, Castle thought he could see a light at the end of the tunnel – a time when he could be happy again.

He pushed away from the door, intending to go to bed and sleep; a proper sleep, not aided by alcohol or sleeping tablets.

"Enough," he muttered. "Enough."

* * *

6 months later,

Richard Castle was sitting at his desk, nursing a glass of scotch. For 6 months he'd been clean, shocked in to sobriety by Ryan and Esposito. He'd repaired his relationship with his daughter; Alexis had transferred from Stanford, where she had gone to get away from Castle's self-destruction, to Columbia. He'd also had several long heart-to-hearts with his mother, and been surprised by her wisdom. She'd guided him back, confiding some of her own heart break along the way. It had helped Richard to realise that he wasn't alone in his regrets.

Esposito and Ryan still checked in on him once a week or so – generally they went and caught a game, or a drink at the Old Haunt. Sometimes when they had a really interesting case they called him and Castle went to take notes. After they'd caught him in the alley and given him the push he needed to get on with his life, Castle had treated them each to an all-expenses paid holiday – a thank you for having his back.

He'd been sober, and content, and engaged in life. But today was different. It was the anniversary of Beckett's death. And Richard hadn't been able to stop himself from buying a bottle of scotch and drinking half of it in one fell swoop.

Castle had sent Alexis and Martha on holiday. They'd realised his motive too late, but kept calling to make sure he was still ok. Ryan had realised, of course, and for the last few days had been in regular contact with Castle. He'd called by the loft once or twice, on the flimsiest of pretexts.

Satisfied that he was good and drunk, Castle made his way unevenly to his bed. He knew he'd regret it in the morning – 6 months of hard work down the drain. And of course, he'd dream about her tonight. He always did, but the alcohol, made it worse. More realistic. But tonight he _wanted_ to dream. He wanted to see her face, and imagine that he could touch her one last time. Tell her all the things he never said.

Castle groaned. "Kate, come back to me."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I'm bumping up the rating now, just to be on the safe side! I hope no one minds! Enjoy the chapter, let me know what you think!

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She arched underneath him, gasping his name. He swallowed her moans as her kissed her. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, gently pulling back her head to expose the line of her throat. The other hand pressed her lower back, forcing her hips up against his as one of his thighs slid slowly upwards, pressing against her centre.

Leaving his hand in her hair he moved his attention to her breasts. With closed lips he traced the underside of her breast, teasing, smile in satisfaction when she groaned and dug her nails into his shoulder.

"Castle…" There was a hint of warning in her voice, but he just chuckled.

"Patience, grasshopper." He moved to the other side, repeating his teasing, enjoying the way her moans increased and her hands gripped him harder. Only when she began to whimper slightly did he change tactics. He rose slightly, forcing her arms away from his back. With his free hand he grabbed hers and pinned them above her head. The other hand pulled harder on her hair, forcing her to arch her back, pressing her against his thigh more firmly. Only then did he lower his mouth back to her breast, hovering over her for a moment before drawing her in to his mouth. A harsh groan escaped her as he increased the pressure.

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She moved over him now, her hips pressing his in to the bed. She looked glorious in the low light, glowing, making love to him with abandon. It was his turn to groan.

"Kate, oh God, Kate. I love you so much." She smiled at him, leaned down towards him until her chest was pressed up against him, her mouth against his ear.

"Castle… I'm sorry."

Huh? This wasn't right. This wasn't how the dream went. He looked up at her – she was still smiling, still flushed, her eyes wide and joyous. He reached for her and pulled her against him again, realising as he did that he could smell cherries.

He felt a touch on his face, and her voice again. "I'm so sorry." She sounded sad, so sad, but her face still hovered above his – luminous, joyful. He wrapped an arm around her waist and flipped them over, never losing the connection, looming large above her and he moved faster. He couldn't bear the sound of the sad voice, he needed her happy. He needed to take her with him up to the heavens.

He moved faster, spurred on by her gasps as she dug her heels into the mattress, rising to meet him. They tipped over the edge together; Castle buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent, groaning.

"I love you."

Castle jerked awake, heart racing. He panted slightly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He knew it wasn't possible, but he would swear he could smell the faintest trace of cherries.

* * *

It was a sad little group who sat in one of the corner booths at the Old Haunt later that week. They'd been trying to meet for a while now, but death and destruction had got in the way, as usual. After breaking their case faster than they'd expected, Ryan and Esposito had summoned everyone to the bar for their own private memorial to the women they'd all called friend. They had spent the evening reminiscing; laughing, crying, comforting each other.

Rick raised his glass slightly, casting a hush over the others.

"To Kate Beckett. She was many things to many people, and I don't think that anyone knew all of her. She was a detective – one of the finest. A daughter-" he smiles at Jim, "a friend-" he glanced at Lanie, "a sister," nods to Ryan and Esposito, "a muse and an inspiration." He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the tears that clogged his throat. "She was fierce, and fragile, and strong. Indomitable, beautiful and loving. And loved. Not just by me, but by everyone here. By every family to whom she brought justice. Yes, we've lost something incredibly precious, not having her in our lives. But she has left a legacy with each and every one of us, and we all need to do our best to honour that legacy for the rest of our lives. To love her for the rest of our lives. _I'll_ love her-" he cut off, unable to stop the tears, the rising panic at the thought of living forever without her – _enduring_ forever without her.

Ryan took over, unable to watch Castle struggle to compose himself, wanting to draw attention away. "To Kate." He lifted his glass, listened to the soft clinks of glass against glass, heard the soft murmur as everyone repeated his words.

Castle looked at him gratefully and excused himself shortly after, needing the solitude, needing to readjust the hole in his heart that had somehow just got bigger, gaping like he had taken the bullet that had almost taken her.

* * *

"You have to let me tell him."

"No."

* * *

Castle was feeling optimistic, and unusually cheerful as he strolled down the road. He'd spent the past few days in the 12th precinct with Ryan and Esposito working a case that was crazy, even by his standards. He'd enjoyed bouncing ideas around with the boys, the thrill of the chase when they'd finally got on the right track, and the exultation of knowing that they'd got their guy.

_See Beckett, I'm living_, he thought. _And, not only am I living, I'm alive._

He diverted in to a shop, steadfastly ignoring the shelves full of liquor. He moved quickly, grabbing some juice, coffee beans, paper. Standing in line for the checkout he idly perused the paper. As he flipped the paper over his vision suddenly tunnelled, his chest tightened and his other purchases crashed to the floor. Trying hard to control his breathing he fished a bill out of his pocket with trembling fingers, threw it at the cashier and ran out of the shop.

He didn't stop running until he was in the elevator back at the 12th, leaning against the railing, panting heavily. As soon as the chime sounded and the door he was leaping forward, throwing the paper down on Ryan's desk.

"Castle, miss us so soon?" Ryan and Esposito laughed lightly. He stabbed at the paper, breathing too heavily to be able to form words. Ryan slid the paper across the desk, frowning slightly as he read the headline that had got Castle so worked up.

CONGRESSIONAL AIDE FOUND DEAD IN OFFICE

"That man," Castle gasped, "it's Smith! Smith is dead!"


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I hope you enjoy! I'm not abandoning this story, but life is getting in the way a bit! Hopefully I won't leave you hanging too long though!

* * *

He was trying to keep calm, but his breath was coming in short bursts, his heart was pounding inside his chest. His brain was swirling faster than he could keep up with it, trying to process what it could mean that Smith was dead. Who had killed him, and why?

Ryan and Esposito looked at him, puzzled. "Woah woah, slow it down bro. Who is this guy?"

Castle could barely hear him over the rush of blood in his head. If Smith was dead, what did that mean for the Dragon? Was something going on that he didn't know about? He needed to find out, to call…

He took a breath. There was no one to call. There was no reason to call. Was there? Beckett might be gone, but this man still had blood on his hands, many times over. Didn't Beckett deserve justice just as much as her mother ever had? Wasn't her mother still waiting for justice?

Castle felt Esposito's steady hand on his shoulder, pulling him back from the maelstrom in his mind. He wasn't going to go down this path. He wasn't going to subject his family and friends to the torture he had been through, and as much as every fibre of his being burned for justice, he wasn't going to fall down Beckett's rabbit hole.

"You ok man?" Esposito and Ryan were both staring at him, concerned. Castle took a steady breath.

"This man. I knew him, sort of. After Montgomery's death, I got a phone call. Montgomery had sent this man a package of files, a safe-guard. It was a deal to keep Beckett alive, and my job was to keep Beckett away from her mother's case. She was only safe if she stopped investigating.

The two detectives were looking horrified. "So when we started investigating the Costas case, and it lead to Maddox, the deal was off?"

"Yeah," Castle sighed. "I tried to get her to back down, leave it alone, but she wouldn't. And then she died. They won."

Ryan had the paper in his hands, scanning the article. "I don't know what to tell you, Castle. It says he died of natural causes. Heart attack at his desk." He gave Castle a sympathetic look. "Anyway, it doesn't matter now-"

"Because we can't investigate, because if we do, we're putting ourselves in danger." Castle interrupted. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to get justice for Beckett," he continued, "except put my family in danger. I just can't do it."

"We know, bro." Esposito nodded. "And at the end of the day, it wouldn't change anything anyway. Finding out who is behind this won't bring her back."

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

He dreamt about her again that night, even though he hadn't had a drop to drink. The air was thick with cherries as he made love to her. The touch on his face was so tender, and her voice was full of hope, not passion, when she stretched underneath him and cried out that she was nearly there, so close, so so close.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

Castle was puzzled. Normally when he dreamed about her he felt broken hearted all over again for days afterwards, his soul aching for what he couldn't have. But today he felt… content. Like he'd spent the night loving his wife, and woken up knowing that she loved him in return. And more than that; he felt hopeful, like he was almost at the beginning, or maybe the end, of something. He had the oddest sense of being poised at the edge of something.

His contented feeling lasted all through the day, and when he returned to the loft after an unusually productive day he didn't feel the gaping loneliness he usually did. He felt… settled, and yet almost like he was fizzing with some sort of anticipation at the same time. He didn't know what it was, but he was willing to go along with it, excited to see where it would take him.

Castle hummed as he cooked pasta, sitting down to eat in front of his laptop without the heavy dragging weight in his chest that usually accompanied thoughts of writing these days. The thought that he might be betraying Kate (or Nikki) by writing another character had led him to avoid his computer in recent months, but now he could feel the stirrings of ideas again. Not Nikki – she had died with Kate. But someone… inspired by Nikki. Connected with her maybe. Castle liked the idea of building his own mini-universe. He'd always thought of Derrick Storm as his own version of James Bond, the man he'd like to be. And of course he was Rook and Beckett was Nikki, there was no denying that.

Castle knew that the rest of his life would be coloured by Beckett. He was certain he was going to love her forever, but for the first time he could truly understand that really living his life would be a better tribute to her than mourning her forever. If he couldn't live _with_ her, he was going to live_ for _her.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

_A month later…_

Castle couldn't believe how different his life was now. His family and friends could barely recognise him from the broken man he had once been. His life was once again full of cheer and optimism. He wrote – not feverishly, as he written the last book, pouring his desperate heart onto the page. No, he wrote steadily, contentedly, measuring each word and paragraph.

And while he enjoyed his days, his nights were full. He dreamed of Kate again, more often than ever before, but now he embraced it. Somehow, she had changed from being Beckett - the woman he had lost – to being Kate. The woman he loved, his partner in every sense of the word.

Just occasionally, the dreams were much more vivid. Those were the night when her words didn't match her expressions, the nights when he woke up and could smell that maddening scent of cherries that pervaded his nights and haunted his days.

What he couldn't understand, but enjoyed none the less, was the sense of optimism that was still with him. Indeed, not only was it still with him, but it had grown so much over the last month that he could barely contain it any more. He was fizzing, bursting with it. He could feel his fingers tingling with the need to do _something_, but he didn't know what the something was.

;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;-;

He dreamed of her.

He tangled his fingers in her hair, feeling her arms come around him, holding him tighter. As he moved inside her, Kate rose to meet him with an intensity he'd never encountered before. He exploded with her, her name on his lips, a desperate chant of love and devotion. As he pulled back to look at her he was saw tears in her eyes, heard soft sobs.

"It's over, Castle, it's over, it's over.

He could smell the cherries and hear her voice, and dammit, something was off about this dream, it was too real, too intense. With an effort Castle pulled himself awake, not wanting to dream of her in distress. But as he came back to consciousness he realised that he could still smell the cherries, still hear the soft crying. It was coming from the corner of the room, the darkest one, cast in shadow. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Castle realised he could see something, a figure. He though he must be seeing things, finally driven to hallucination maybe, but the figure moved, caught a beam of light coming through the open door, just enough to make the features clear. Castle's heart leapt.

"Beckett?"


	9. Chapter 9

"Wha-?" Castle shook his head, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. Moonlight slanted through the doorway, casting an ethereal light round the room. A figure sat huddled into the darkest corner, tears streaming unchecked, head thrown back against the wall. Castle could see the heavy burden of exhaustion etched in to every line of her shoulders. He _knew_ he must be dreaming, because Beckett,_ Beckett_, was sitting slumped against his bedroom wall, sobbing hard now like her heart might just break and outside the walls the city was silent and the room was liquid silver.

Castle slipped out of bed and approached her, certain that at any moment the spell would break, like a bubble popping at the careless touch of a finger. He knelt, wanting to stretch out his hand, to touch her. Beckett dropped her head forwards allowing the heavy curtain of her hair to hide her face. Castle could hear her drawing in deep breaths, getting herself under control. After a minute, she gathered herself, raised her head and looked Castle square in the eye.

It was like a punch to his gut. Her eyes were luminous with unshed tears, which made them look brighter than ever. Castle couldn't help reaching out a hand to gently stroke down the side of her face, his heart clenching as she turned her face into his hand, eyes closing as a small smile touched her lips.

Castle dropped his hand down the line of her jaw, on to her chest. His fingers stretched out to press against the small mark between her breasts, where he could feel her heartbeat pulsing under her ribcage. He could feel life flowing from her, through his fingers, up his arm and straight in to his heart, a direct line of life and love pulsing between them. When her hand crept up to cover his a sudden sob burst from him, a tidal wave of emotion. Beckett gathered him into her arms, her tears mingling with his as she rocked him, whispering desperate apologies in his ear.

"I'm so sorry Castle, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He pulled back from Kate's shoulder, and paused for barely a second before gripping the back of her head and bringing his lips down on hers in a ferocious kiss. There was nothing gentle as Castle claimed her lips, bruising them, biting. Kate responded in kind, gripping his shoulders, trying to pull him closer, wanting to knit them together so tightly they could never be split apart again. Eventually their frenetic pace slowed, until with a final kiss Castle pulled back, resting his forehead against hers, breathing deeply to try and calm his pounding heart.

Anger and recriminations would come, but as they knelt there on the floor, locked in a desperate embrace in the quicksilver night, all they could do was cling to each other and pray that the spell would last, that time would stop, that reality wouldn't intrude on this perfect, magical moment.

* * *

A/N; Just a short update, but I didn't want to keep you guys hanging any longer! There is a lot more to come – clearly there are issues to be resolved! Thanks for reading, I hope you're still enjoying it!


	10. Chapter 10

_Castle,_

_You've always loved words. You create beauty and truth with words, you give power to thought and magic to ideas with your words. _

_I know that I've taken a lot from you, been unfair and cruel to you. Please know that I am sorrier than I can say. It has cost me dearly. All I have left to give you are my words, the last bit of my story. _

_That day, on that rooftop, I nearly died. I nearly died and all I wanted was you. When I was pulled back over the brink I thought it was you, and when I saw that it was Ryan I felt betrayed, that you hadn't saved me. Then I realised that I had no right to feel that way, that the reason you weren't there was because of me. I had pushed you away. And in that moment I decided that this was my fight, and I had to do it alone. You had said you were done, I had experienced just how dangerous it was, and I had no right to pull you back in to that, to ask you to die for my cause. So I arranged it with Gates that she would tell everyone I died. I would disappear and fight my fight in the shadows, like the 'Dragon' I was chasing. _

_Please don't blame Ryan, he was bitterly against me leaving. I've been in contact with him a few times and he always tried to persuade me to come back, or at least to let him tell you the truth, but I wouldn't let him. Esposito never knew, I was gone before he was conscious again. _

_The time that I've been away really showed me the meaning of being lonely. I have often felt alone, but rarely felt lonely before this. And despite myself I couldn't resist coming back to you, like a planet returning to orbit around it's sun. You need better locks, Castle, they're far too easy to pick. I came back many times, just to be near you, and let your nearness warm me for a while. You never knew it, but you helped me through the last few months. I don't think I could have survived it without knowing that you were still there. Solid, and vital and alive. _

_The details aren't important, but it's over, the dragon is vanquished. The public will never know the truth but I do. And so did he, in his final moments he knew that lives cannot be taken so casually, that truth will always be sought, and brought out in to the light. In the end I was better than him – he died by his own hand, but I realised that his death wasn't the end of the story. The end of this story is here, the errant Knight returning to the Castle. Home. _

_I don't expect you to forgive me, or to love me anymore. I lost that right. But I hope that, like you closed the book on Nikki, you can close the book on this chapter of your life with peace. _

_Ryan will know how to contact me, should you ever want to. _

_Always,_

_KB_

Castle read the letter again. When he'd woken alone he had assumed he was dreaming, but the letter on his dresser was proof otherwise. He'd read it with a pounding heart, unsure he wanted to know what she was going to say but desperate for any small part of her. Now, confusion swirled round him. He wanted to shake her, and then kiss her and never let her go. But a much larger part of him was feeling angry, and that was the part that was winning. Angry that the last 14 months had been for nothing, angry that she had had the comfort of seeing him but he had been denied the same. And angry that she had run headlong into danger again, but without any one to have her back.

"Dammit Beckett."

* * *

Wow, so yeah... It's been a while! I totally lost the plot bunnies, but one of two have come hopping back recently. This isn't over yet, although I don't think there'll be more than one or two chapters, but I hope you enjoy, if you even remember what this is after all this time!


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